You Can Trust Me, I Will Listen
by GraceW
Summary: Naomi worked for years to protect Heaven and sacrificed much to do so, it was cruel fate that everything she'd worked so hard for fell apart as she died. Missing scene from 'Sacrifice' (8.23). Character study on the end of Naomi, Angel of the Lord.


_**You Can Trust Me, I Will Listen **_**by GraceW**

A/N: Oh dear me, apparently this is what I do with one of my favorite characters, I cause them pain. Naomi was one of my favorite characters on the show, and I'm incredibly upset they decided to kill her off, right after all that happened at the end of season eight. This little one shot is a long time coming, but inspiration strikes at odd times, listening to sad music and it just sort of happened. Anyways, I'd like to thank the dear Angie (_mightyflea_) for helping me out with this and catching my little mistakes. She's fantastic, go check out her BBC Sherlock fics.

And without further ado, here are your feels. Don't forget to review!

—

"_Our mission was to protect what God created. I don't know when we forgot that. I want nothing more than to see you shut the Gates of Hell, but I told you that you could trust me. If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die.__"_

"_What the hell are you talking about?__"_

"_I saw it in Metatron's head. It was always God's intention - the ultimate sacrifice. As for you, Castiel, I beg of you, stop this path. Metatron has been neutralized. If you want back in, truly, I will listen.__" _

—

Naomi left Dean and Castiel, returning to Heaven. Not her office, not right away. She needed time to think, to compose herself. Time to prepare for the rest of Metatron's debriefing.

At the moment, her favorite corner of Heaven was the personal heaven of a thirty-one year old mountaineer, struck by lightening in 1843 while exploring the Sierra Nevadas. His heaven was a small cabin tucked away in a scenic mountain range. It was peaceful, calming, quiet, open. She landed in her usual spot, a cliff overlooking the snow covered peaks, folding her wings behind her. Delicately and with the edge of her sleeve, she wiped away the tears that still filled her eyes. Composure, she needed to get her emotions under control if she was to be of any use to anyone, especially to Heaven.

She's nearly failed her mission. It was far too close for comfort. Heaven needed protecting, and Metatron had almost taken it all away from her. It was safe though, Metatron was contained, Castiel was warned, the Winchesters were saved. Heaven was safe. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep calming breath, letting it out slowly, attuning herself with her grace again.

There was a deep ache in her chest as her own words rang in her head. _The mission_. God's mission. Protecting His creation, even when He was gone. They'd missed the point, and over thousands and thousands of years, everything had twisted, becoming some corrupt society. Protecting Heaven _was _important. But to what cost? Samandriel? Anna? Castiel? Hundreds of others? She'd fixed them, tortured them, killed her own brethren. Fixed them to sacrifice themselves without question, fixed them to kill thousands of humans by the archangel's command…

The tears burning her eyes were not appreciated right now. She had a job to do, to finish debriefing Metatron. So they could lock him away, never to see anything besides the four walls of a prison, or ever finish his goal to cast the angels out of Heaven. She balled her fists, took one more moment to herself and then flew back to her office, landing behind her desk as usual.

The lights were white, the blinding white that was used during her 'sessions'. She changed the colors when she was alone, or was simply talking with someone, she found she preferred it. Purples, pinks, blues, yellows….but that didn't matter now. For the chair that once housed Metatron was empty.

She didn't move, her mind flitting through that information quickly. The emptiness, and the distinct lack of her tool device were key indicators. He couldn't have…he shouldn't have been able to escape. But perhaps in her haste to save Sam Winchester and prove her trustworthiness to Dean and Castiel, she'd not secured him as she should have. There was a moment of quiet panic, and then it hit her.

A sharp pain was driven into her head, accompanied by the too familiar sound which should never have been used against her. She stumbled, feeling hands guide her to her chair, sitting her down and holding her head on the table as the drilling continued.

She may have struggled initially, but the tool's power allowed it to immobilize its victims. Soon she stopped, unable to fight back, unable to run away, unable to scream. She was going to die, slowly, painfully, helplessly, and alone. Her hand twitched on the desk as the blood began spilling out of her vessel's head, unabated, too quickly.

And then _he_ walked around from behind her, standing just in her line of sight, her eyes frozen open. She had a brief thought, the last face she would see would be _his._ Her murderer's. She was afraid, completely and utterly terrified.

Metatron was wearing a smug smile, too friendly, too confident. He bent down just a bit to get a better look at her, speaking in his unassuming voice. "How's that feel, Naomi? The humans have a phrase for it….Getting a taste of your own medicine."

Naomi couldn't respond, but her internal voice was screaming. _No! You monster!_

As if he could understand, he grinned wider. "No, Naomi. You're the monster. An ugly disgusting monster, deserving of everything I just did to you." He took a step closer to her, his hand reaching out.

Again, screaming. _No, no, stay away from me!_

"You have failed, the angels will fall. Everything you ever worked for is gone. I am God now. You are nothing but a worthless bitch with a power tool, not so much now." Metatron reached in to take her angel sword, whispering the next part in her ear. "And now you're dead."

Naomi was fading, she knew it, her vision already blurring, her senses dulling. The drill was still on, spinning and tearing apart her mind's grace, causing pain to the very essence of her being. Unskilled hands had used it to kill, and she was its victim.

"This is the end of your story, Naomi. A pity you won't be around to see the next chapter of mine." Metatron had stepped away, studying the stolen angel blade.

Everything she'd feared was coming to pass. Not only her death, for death was a difficult concept for an eternal being to come to terms with. But Heaven, all the angels being cast out. People would die, angels would die, everything would be chaos. If she could, she would have been crying, breaking apart in so many ways all at once. But she couldn't express anything. She couldn't move, couldn't live anymore.

Then she heard him flutter in. _Castiel_. She felt his eyes on her. He was walking into a trap…but maybe, just maybe he'd be able to fix this. That's what he did, even if it took everything he had. He always got in the way and interrupted Heaven's plans. He _would_ do the same for Metatron.

With that last flicker of uncertain hope, Naomi was nearly gone. Her vision blurred completely, and the last sound she heard was the soft buzz of her only companion throughout the years, the tool that had been stabbed mercilessly into her head...

_If you want back in__…__truly__…__I will listen. _


End file.
